Sturm und Drang
by tklivory
Summary: A vulnerable Kalindra opens up to Alistair about her past.


**Sturm und Drang**

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An anguished cry rang out over the camp.

Starting up out of a sound sleep, Alistair blindly reached for the sword lying on the ground next to him, senses at full alert. On the other side of the bonfire, Sten stood at the ready, weapon in hand, eyes scanning the campground for any unexpected attack.

Another cry echoed in the night, and this time Alistair knew the source: his fellow Grey Warden, who had retired alone to her tent early in the evening pleading exhaustion after their ordeal at the Mage Tower. It had been a somber group that had staggered off of the ferry earlier that day, blinking in the light of the sun dulled by the perpetual fog around Lake Caledhan. Weary and heartsick, they had, without consultation, removed themselves from the immediate environs of the Tower, moving away from the imposing edifice as quickly as their tired limbs allowed.

Naturally, it was Leliana that had found an idyllic camping spot several hours walk from the Tower and begun pitching her tent without a word to the others. As they had stumbled through the motions of preparing for the night, Alistair had noticed the way that Leliana had covertly kept an eye on Kalindra, as she had ever since they had received Greagoir's assurances that the Templars would stand ready to fight with the Gray Wardens against the Darkspawn. He couldn't suppress the twinge of jealously he felt at the way the former Chantry lay sister's eyes lingered on Kalindra's slight form, but he was touched by the honest concern and affection in the woman's eyes.

And now it was Leliana who went to Kalindra's tent first. Alistair hesitated, watching the red-haired woman disappear into the dark interior of the little house of cloth, then followed, unsure of what he could do, but not willing to admit his own helplessness even to himself.

As he arrived at the tent flap, he paused as he heard voices emanate from within. "You did what you could, dear heart."

"I—" a choked voice said. "I couldn't save them. I—I _killed_—" The words devolved into choked sobs.

Alistair heard a rustling in the tent, and he knew that Leliana had gathered the vulnerable warden into her arms. "Hush, now, hush," she murmured, as if to a child. "It will all be better in the morning."

"So much death," the elf whispered, as if she had not heard her lover's words. "I'm so _tired _of it all." A weary sigh tugged at something deep within Alistair, and he found he couldn't resist entering the tent.

Inside, as he surmised, he found Kalindra, her arms tightly clenched around her knees, wrapped within the bard's embrace. Although her face was dry, he knew her well enough by now to know that her crying would come later, when she was alone. He knew that no-one had yet seen her cry, not even Leliana, for all that they had spent most of their nights together in these last few weeks.

Not sure why he had intruded on this private moment, he settled down before his fellow Grey Warden. Her eyes followed his movements, for once lacking the wariness that he had thought would always linger whenever he came near. Instead, she seemed to be analyzing his face, searching for something. Whether she found what she sought, he did not know, for she turned away from him, putting her head into the crook of Leliana's neck, seeking a level of comfort in her lover's embrace that she could not find elsewhere.

"You must despise me, shem," she whispered.

Alistair saw Leliana frown at this statement. Gently, he said, "Why would I hate you, Kalindra?"

"No true Grey Warden would be this weak, would they?" she demanded, her tone drenched in almost enough acid to obscure the self-doubt and uncertainty. "No Grey Warden would hesitate to do what was necessary to gain the help of allies during a Blight." She barked a harsh laugh. "No true Grey Warden would be unable to face herself in the mirror." She suddenly lifted her head and met Alistair's eyes with a burning gaze. "Why do you persist in telling me that I am a Grey Warden, _shem_?" she insisted. "I dishonor their memory with my every decision."

Alistair regarded the elf for a moment, then met Leliana's eyes. After a moment, Leliana nodded, sighed, and lightly kissed Kalindra before quietly leaving them alone in the tent.

He leaned forward, careful, ever so careful, not to touch Kalindra. Leliana had hinted at the reasons why the elf was so shy around him, and he saw no reason to antagonize her, particularly at this moment, but he needed the intensity that proximity alone could bring. Interestingly, though he was closer to her than he had been almost since their first meeting, she did nothing more than watch him: no tensing, no instinctive flinching away, no reflexive reaching for her knife. _Well, I _suppose_ that's encouraging,_he thought.

"Remember I told you what Duncan told me, when he told me that Wardens only have thirty years to live after the Joining?"

Puzzled by the seeming tangent, Kalindra nodded, whispering, "It's not how we die, but how we live that is important."

Easing slightly closer to her, Alistair nodded. "That wasn't all he said that night, though. I told you I was angry, right?" He smiled a little to himself, remembering that night. "I never told you _how _angry." She looked at him curiously. "I struck him."

Her lavender eyes widened. "You hit _Duncan_?"

He nodded, still feeling a little foolish. "Laid him out flat. He really wasn't expecting that." He cocked his head, looking down at the petite woman sitting so near. "Then he got to his feet and knocked me flat on _my _back." He chuckled. "After that, he stuck out his hand and pulled me to my feet and asked me if I felt better. And, I found to my surprise, I did." His eyes sought out Kalindra's gaze. "I didn't hide my anger away, I let it all come raging out of me; and the instant it came out, it was gone." He reached up and tapped her forehead. "You need to do the same thing with what's inside here." Lowering his hand, he tapped his own chest. "And what's in here."

She watched him, mute.

"Duncan taught me something very important that day," he continued. "He told me that emotions, especially the negative ones, can poison and fester. Like anything else that is kept out of sight and out of mind, it doesn't go away – it just grows and spreads, like ink in water, until suddenly it's worked its way into every aspect of its surroundings." Impulsively, he reached out and grasped her hand, squeezing it lightly. "I don't know why you carry such a burden within you, and I don't even know exactly what that burden is, but I do know that you have to get it out, or it will grow and eventually consume you." Bringing the delicate-looking hand to his face, he brushed it with his lips. "And you do not deserve that."

Eyes wide, she only stared at him.

_Why did I do that?_ he wondered. _And yet… she didn't seem to mind. _When she didn't move for a long while, he sighed, regretfully released her hand and started to rise. "I'm sorry. I thought it would help you to hear what he said. I'll go get Le—"

Suddenly her hand reached out and grabbed his in a tight grasp. Pulling him to sit down beside her on the tent floor, she refused to relinquish her grip as she intently looked into his eyes. "I killed a man." She swallowed, eyes suspiciously bright. "A Bann, the son of an Arl." She looked away, obviously afraid to continue, yet continue she did. "It was the single sweetest moment of my life."

Surprised at this revelation, he said, "I—I don't—" Without looking at him, her fingers settled over his lips, begging his silence. He wordlessly complied.

"I-it was day of celebration in the Alienage, a day of happiness and… and hope for the future. Then that man…" her voice flattened, first with rage, then with fear. "That man came, with his soldiers and his swords and his title, and he took us, the women of the Alienage."

She met his eyes. "And he _used _us."

Alistair felt his face darken with anger, but kept silent at the continued pressure of her fingertips on his lips. "Duncan helped arm my cousin and…and a friend so that they could enter the Arl's house where we were held and attempt to rescue us. It was too late for… for some of us."

Alistair watched the play of emotions over his fellow Grey Warden's face: rage, fear, hate, resignation, and… some other emotion he didn't recognize, but that drew him closer to her. Without thinking, he pulled her into his embrace, only knowing that he wanted to let her know that she wasn't alone, that she would never be alone again.

"Soris – my cousin – he found me, armed me, and… and I don't remember much beyond that, except blood." Her eyes grew distant. "The next thing I truly remember was that damned shem's head at my feet, his friends dead under my blade, and myself covered with his blood and guts… and my _laughter_." She shuddered. "Even my cousin wouldn't walk with me when we returned to the Alienage. He…he was scared of me, of what I might do to him." And suddenly, she was clinging to him, wrapping her arms tight around him, body shuddering with repressed emotions.

He held her tight, unsure of why she had turned to him like this so suddenly, but honored that she trusted him enough to do so.

After an eternity, an eternity without words and only the silent breaths of long-held tension being slowly released echoing through the air, she finally released him and sat back. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?" he murmured.

She met his eyes. "For not being like him."

He smiled slightly and cupped her hand in his chin. "I could never hurt you, Kalindra." Eyes boring into hers, he added, "I need you too much." As her eyes widened in surprise, he hastily dropped his hand and added jokingly, "You're the only other Grey Warden in Fereldan. I can't even make lunch without losing my trousers." He was rewarded with a slight chuckle from her thin frame. Watching her sag again, he rose into a crouch. "I'll go get Leliana."

Kalindra nodded in acknowledgment of his words as she collapsed back into her bedroll.

Emerging from the tent, he stopped for a moment and stared at the stars. _Maker,_ he prayed fervently, uncertain as always of the efficacy of the prayer but unsure of what else to do, _just…just be with her._

"Is she all right?" a soft feminine voice said from behind him.

Turning, he nodded in reply to Leliana's question. "She's waiting for you."

The bard dipped her head in reply, then reached out and squeezed Alistair's shoulder. "Thank you."

Alistair reached up and enclosed the woman's hand in his own. "Just…just be with her." He watched Leliana enter the tent once more, then turned and walked away from the camp, staring up at the stars, trying to work through the roiling emotions within. _Be with her… be where I want to be._


End file.
